


That Obligatory Christmas Fic

by Zayrastriel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:29:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zayrastriel/pseuds/Zayrastriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus has always hated Christmas.  First when Christmas was at home, and more often than not coincided too closely with the moon.  Second in Hogwarts; because everyone becomes crazy on Christmas, and there’s only so much of it that Remus can handle before he wants to curl up and cry.<br/>This Christmas is a little different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Obligatory Christmas Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Belated Christmas fic

“It’s Christmas!”

There is something depressing in the lack of surprise Remus feels to be woken up by the sound of his bespectacled friend’s voice. 

What is rather more depressing, however, is the proclamation that wakes him. 

 _It’s Christmas_.

 _Oh_ , Remus thinks glumly, _bother_.

* * *

 

It isn’t that Remus hates Christmas.  He doesn’t have a fervent dislike of everything to do with it, he doesn’t avoid it (though more out of impossibility than from any other reason), he just…doesn’t like it.  And sort of hates it.

At first, it was the memory of what Christmas _used_ to be like that left him bitter and annoyed by the whole affair.  Back before he’d been foolish to wander out into the garden at night, after Father had explicitly said _no, the monsters will eat you_.

… _Bother.  Don’t think about that_.

And then there was Christmas After.  Christmas After was terrible because, for whatever reason, the lunar cycle seemed to dislike him enough that more often than not, he would pass it keening in his bed, almost out of his mind with agony while his mother fretted by his bedside.  Recovery was always hard, but there was something about the weariness in his mother’s eyes and the frustrated distance in his father’s every movement which made Remus curl within his wolf till his physical recovery was complete and he had no choice but to emerge, reluctant and human.

Hogwarts was better and worse at the same time.  Better because he was away from his parents, and worse because of the same.  Better because the Marauders were with him – loyal from the start. 

Worse because of the pile of presents at the foot of all their beds, and the meagre collection he would wake to find awaiting him.

* * *

 

The best thing about this Christmas is that Sirius can – and does – bound over and shift into dog form in time to pounce on top of Remus and lick his face; not slobbery for once, but light and ticklish instead.

(Still just a little disgusting, of course.)

It’s been a few months but there is still something a little strange in not having to _worry_ about James and Peter-

“Padfoot, you berk, if you’re going to snog the poor thing then at least don’t give him rabies!”

It’s the opposite, in fact – Sirius only gets a few good licks in before James is hauling him off of Remus by the scruff of his neck.  Halfway to the ground, Sirius shifts back in time to grab James by the shoulders.

The bed sinks slightly – it’s Peter, watching the two taller boys wrestle, slightly wide-eyed.

“I don’t believe rabies transmits quite like that,” Remus informs his friend mildly, though whether James is actually listening is quite up in the clouds.  “And even if it did, I’m sure that being a werewolf must-“

“Moony, stop talking and help me out!” Sirius yelps, far too dog-like, as James head-butts him in the stomach. 

Peter shifts his weight slightly.  He smells like chocolate and sweat, even this early in the morning.  “Hey, Remus…You don’t suppose I could just start unwrapping my presents?”

* * *

 

The moon isn’t due for another five days, so the muscle pains haven’t started yet. 

The moods have, though; the moods that leave him spiralling further and further down the black hole of self-pity that he feels when he takes stock of the presents at the foot of his bed. 

Five presents; one from James, one from Peter.  One from Frank, wrapped in bright blue paper.  Lily’s is neatly tied with an elegant ribbon arrangement that must be hers, because none of the boys could ever hope to do that.  And one from his parents, in the same brown wrapping they always use.

Nothing compared to the veritable mountain that James is sorting through with far too much enthusiasm (though Remus notes with a certain vindictive satisfaction that none have Lily’s distinctive touch). 

And…nothing from Sirius.

Abruptly, Remus stands.  Only Peter seems to notice, making a slightly muffled questioning noise around a mouthful of chocolate. 

“Breakfast,” Remus says shortly.

It’s almost full moon; not his fault that the door slams shut.

* * *

 

There are enough people staying this year that the House tables are still stretched across the room.  Remus is sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, staring at a sausage with little enthusiasm, when a book lands on his head.

If he’d been human, it most probably would have given him a concussion.  As it is, he merely scowls at a poor Ravenclaw girl, sitting a table away from him.  She pales.  He almost feels guilty.

 _Religion and Magic in South-East Asia: An Introduction_ , it reads.

Inside the front cover, someone has written a series of painstakingly perfect Runes.

They read: _Thine ass is most pleasant, oh resplendent goddess of the moon_.

* * *

 

 

Four gifts (a book, a beautiful everlasting silver collar and two boxes of chocolate), two injuries and one fall-down-a-flight-of-stairs later, Remus still isn’t sure whether he’s going to punch Sirius in the balls or give him the best blowjob of his life. 

**END**

_P.S. He ends up doing both.  At the same time._


End file.
